


Gun Powder

by TheQueen



Series: Seven Sins Ain't Enough [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Lindsay-Centric, Minor Character Death, fake ah au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4450661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueen/pseuds/TheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindsay sighed through a lung full of city smog and felt the ache for home in the pit of her stomach grow only stronger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gun Powder

Lindsay sighed through a lung full of city smog and felt the ache for home in the pit of her stomach grow only stronger. Besides her, her phone remained annoyingly silent, Michael’s promise to call when the heist was over probably delayed by Geoff’s annoying habit of calling crew meetings afterwards. Hopefully, anyway. But for now she had a job to do. Focusing her attention back on her mark, a politician who had dipped his greedy little fingers into a few too many wrong pies, she stroked her rifle delicately as the city continued to roar below her, indifferent to everything else. 

This was an easy job. A basic hit and run she could execute in her sleep. And the client was paying well, which was always nice, bonus from finally having made a name for herself. Now she just needed the mark’s wife to go to bed so she could make her move. The couple was fighting. A usual from what Lindsay had observed when she’d been running recon. It wasn’t that they had an unhappy marriage, just a loud one thanks to a tendency to scream over everything. It sort of reminded her of her own marriage, still young at two years. Hopefully, she would get 22 years like the mark had. That was a long time to be happy in her line of work. It was also rare. But Lindsay was nothing but a stubborn woman and her husband as equally head strong.

They’d make it work. She had faith. 

Finally the wife stopped screaming and leaned in to flick the mark on the ear and kiss his cheek, probably telling him goodnight, that they would continue their argument in the morning. Lindsay felt bad for her. If only her husband had been a smarter man. As the wife left the kitchen to go to bed, her husband walked over to the skin and began filling the glass of water he always took to bed. Lindsay was already aiming.

Slowing her breath, she focused on his bent head and continued to ten. She always gave herself this. Ten precious seconds to change her mind, to back out, to leave. Michael would come with her. She knew it like she knew her gun and the feel of the recoil when a shot went off. She knew it like she knew the way the sun looked rising over the ugly city that was Los Santos. And she knew it like she knew the back of her husband's hand.

They would island hope, eventually settle down in a country far away and become domestic. Buy a house. Raise a daughter who knew nothing about blood money and warfare. She could become a writer or an art teacher. Michael would open shop as an electrician. He wouldn’t even think about it, never even ask her why this kill, this moment instead of all the others. He would be happy for her. Lindsay would think about it though. If she left, she would wonder “what if” just like she did when she stayed. Turning off the safety as she counted to eight, she thought about a house by the sea. Nine. A daughter with Michael’s curly hair. Ten. A little girl’s smile. But in the end, she always fires.

As the mark fell to the floor, she settled back into her hiding spot just in time. The wife had started screaming. The dog was barking. Soon the cops would be here and she needed to be gone. But she took a few seconds to allow her heart to calm down, for her face to stop flushing, for her hands to grow still, and, more than all of that, a moment to mourn before rising to storing her rifle away and grabbing the rest of her bags, already packed by the door.  

As she opened the door to the hotel she’d been staying in, her phone began ringing. It was Michael. Picking it up, she calmly slipped into the crowded streets of Beijing just as the police arrived at the scene. “So how’d it go?”

**Author's Note:**

> Currently accepting Fake AH prompts at my tumblr: thequeen117.tumblr.com


End file.
